Dark Edge of Insanity
by Orc Shaman
Summary: Fifteen years after the demise of Voldemort, Harry landed in one of the more shitty jobs of the Wizarding career, being an Auror. But one of his missions led him to a wolf who had lost everything in the war, including his sanity. Harry/Fenrir. SLASH M/M


I apologize for any mistakes grammatically and spellatically. (Yes it's a word I formed ha.) This story was written at 12:50 AM but the idea went into my head, and I couldn't wait until the next day to write it. (Or I'll forget.)

Just so you know…Harry tops. Fenrir Bottoms. It all works out smoothly.

xx-xx

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, and rubbed gently. Being an auror had its perks, but there were times he just wished he had a choice to refuse some assignments.

His boss, Dedulas Lone, always seemed to use the fame of 'The-Boy-Who-Destroyed-You-Know-Who' to, oddly enough, get Harry to do assignments without protest.

"Just because you're 'Boy Wonder', don't expect special treatment." That pushed the war weary wizard to finish the task, just to prove a point.

But when he read the packet of papers Dedulas dropped in his box, Harry couldn't help but try to repress a shudder of what he was asked to do.

Apparently to question remaining Death Eaters in Azkaban, which required obviously enough, going into Azkaban.

The thought of those foul decaying creatures that leisurely float about the prison seemed to worsen every aspects of the job interrogating criminals.

But Harry was no longer the scrawny scared child he had been during his teens. His body now filled correspondly to his rather tall height, now being on the lean to muscular side from Auror training. His face now adorned with deep scars from lashing curses during his many missions; even managing to sever his right eye, which half blinded him. Dull green eyes (or _eye_) no longer require those horrible pair of specs, having being magic corrected. Harry correctly fit the description of a battle-worn wizard.

He hauled himself up from his rather cushiony leather chair, and slipped on his black robes that hung loosely on a rack.

Walking out his office, he gave his colleague and best friend, a single wave, indicating a 'Don't-Talk-To-Me-I-Just-Got-Screwed-Over-By-Dedulas-Lone".

Ron nodded apathetically, and uttered a "Good luck, mate." as he watched Harry approach the fireplace.

Throwing in a pinch of Floo Powder, the flames turned into crackling green, and the brunette slowly ducked inside.

"Azkaban."

And woosh he was gone.

Ron stared wide eyed at the fireplace, flames slowly returning to its previous red colour.

Azkaban?..

xx-xx

Harry didn't land gracefully, falling on his arse, ash covered his pants and soot flung into the air.

Coughing, he groped around aimlessly before feeling a hand hoist him upwards.

"We've been expecting you Mr. Potter. Here, a vial of vertiserum, use it liberally on whoever you see fit. Apparently, some Deatheaters are crying for release, claiming to be under the influence of the Imperius Curse on the recent rebellion callings. Just force feed them, and we shall sort the innocent, or somewhat, to the liars." The seemingly easy task puzzled Harry, as to why they bothered hiring a fully trained Auror. He didn't question it though, taking the tube glass, he gently slid it into his pockets.

Taking out his wand, Harry conjured his patronus, the wondrous magnificent stag Prongs.

"Remember, cell 134-139, and I bid you good day, Mr. Potter."

"And you, Mr. Lemki."

Swinging the wooden door open, he shivered at the sudden gush of cold air. Urging his patronous to follow, together they set off up the flight of stairs passing doors with index labels branded on the top.

90-109…

110-129…

Ah ha! 130-149.

Harry pushed the door open, and nearly jolted back as he was immedietly greeted with a Dementor.

The guard seemed to have expected him, and waved its decaying hand forward, beckoning them to the cells.

Prongs moved in front of Harry, eyeing the Dementor with distrust. The deathly creature seemingly got the hint and backed off a bit.

The pair made their way to Cell 134, and inside the gates was a sickly woman. Noticing the cell was unlocked, actually all the cells didn't even have a lock, he edged inside and tilted the woman's head back.

Unscrewing the vial, he let three drops dip into her mouth, before recorking the glass.

"Are you affiliated with the Death Eaters?"

"Y-yes. My h-husband was o-one."

"And why do Death Eaters still exist even after the demise of Voldemort?"

"D-do not speak the n-name. And m-my husband said it's not be-because of Yo-you-Know-Who. D-Death Eaters is n-now just a name f-for an orginazation to hope t-to cause chaos am-among the Wizadry World." Harry nodded. This information only confirmed their (Ministry included) suspicion.

"And why were you at the rebellion riot at December 12th, 9:30 in the afternoon?"

"I-I don't remember. P-please I-I don't remember. I just re-recall a feeling of total.." She gulped. "Total bliss, like I was happy again. Like Daerick never joined the Death Eaters. P-please I'm telling the truth, I w-want to see my children again." Harry's heart softened, this poor woman Imperius Cursed.

"Don't worry. I will get you out of here, after I inspect the others."

"O-Oh t-thank y-you so much sir. Thank you Th-thank you so so so m-much. I kn-knew you were a k-kind man Mr. P-Potter. I kn-knew." He reached into his pocket and fished out a couple of chocolate frogs.

"Here, the Dementors probably sapped you of your energy. Just stay here, Prongs will look after you." Harry nodded at the stag, before going onto the next cell.

"I was the one who brought that sniveling muggle to kill herself right in front of her mother. A right sight."

And the next cell.

"I planned the whole damn thing."

And the next cell:

"You will die."

And finally:

"I was the mass murderer who killed 30 muggles in the riot of July 19th."

Harry shook his head, atleast he managed to save one innocent life from the grasp of Azkaban.

"Well I think it's high time we got out of here, right Miss…?" The sickly woman had a bright smile on her face, apparently the chocolate did her good.

"Amber, honey. Just call me Amber." He nodded.

"Well Amber, follow me and we wi-"

"_P-please. H-help. Gorshade, Snarl, Howl…anyone? G-get me outta here ..please."_

"Wh-Who was that?" Amber looked a bit somber.

"Poor lad was our cellmate. He was here way before us, but he wouldn't say how long ago. Every night, he..cries. I feel..pity for the poor soul."

"I'll check it out then. Prongs, escort Amber back to Mr. Lemki's office. This shouldn't take too long."

The stag gave a hesitant pause, but then nodded. Nudging the woman towards the exit.

"Be safe dear."

Harry nodded, and moved deeper into the prison hall. The moaning grew louder and louder until the brunette stopped at the very end of the hall. Cell 149.

The tiny cage wreaked of bodily wastes and decaying food and other unmentionables.

"Lumos." Harry peered into the bars, and gasped at the lone figure lying in dirty rags.

Though near indistinguishable, he recognized those eyes.

Those piercing amber glowing eyes.

Fenrir Greyback.

xx-xx

Well? Review! I'd love some feedback on my plot. (Or lack thereof, this chapter hasn't gone very indepth in terms of plot.)


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